Because He Misses You

It was becoming much harder to retain his sanity lately.

Oftentimes, Sephiroth would simply sit alone in his office and reminisce about the times they spent together, thoughts of all the things he missed swirling through his mind instead of his next appointment with Hojo or that mission report which would be due in a few hours.

All it took was an apple, mentions of Loveless or faint glimpses of red to send him back into the retreat of his memories.

He missed the deep azure of his eyes and the way they would light up whenever his mind was full of mischief. He missed the smell of dumbapples and cinnamon, a scent he had long come to associate with the auburn haired man and could only now find embedded into his sheets, in his clothes, in the empty recesses of his room. He missed the hidden looks and the kisses they had to sneak in the training room and the priceless expression on Angeal's face when he would catch them in the midst of their "training". The melody of his voice in all of it's teasing, even it's recitations of that god-awful play, would replay over and over in Sephiroth's ears and then his train of thought would move to a single silver earring and how all it took was a simple tug of his teeth and the redhead would turn to putty in his hands. He missed his fire, his unpredictability, his temper which was so much an opposite of the General's that their personalities would even each other out. There were times when, despite Sephiroth's caution, he would go off and rage for hours, locking himself away in his room until the silveret would come knocking to apologize for whatever it was he had done, though the make-up sex was usually mind blowing enough to compensate for the loss of pride. And though he adored hearing the redhead's voice and seeing the overconfident smirk that could hide so much, the moments he missed the most were those late nights when he could simply hold the other man and enjoy the feeling of just being…there.

He missed everything about him.

He missed Genesis.